I don't know what's more pathetic, the fact that you dated him or the fact that it took a Taylor Swift song for you to break up with him.
All I remember from last night is puking up a box of cheeze-its and the building catching on fire.
woman puking in liquor store parking lot at 9:30 on a tuesday morning = best commute ever.
You just got cockblocked by Conan O'Brien.
okay, I promise to stop paying strippers to hit you
I don't know how it happened, one minute we were talking about Huck Finn, the next minute I was blowing him behind the corner of his apartment building.
I fell asleep with all the lights and heat on in the apartment with windows open, Earth Hour is lost on people like me.
My vagina is depressed thinking about her future.
He's hungover and at the neighbour's garage sale negotiating a price for a tuba.
I definitely hasselhoffed a taco bell burrito on my kitchen floor in front of my dad and little brother.
We're walking, taxis are a waste of money that can be spent on alcohol.
My boobs are feeling quite sensitive so I told them, " you is smart, you is kind, you is important" that should do the trick.
I need to immerse myself in a tub of peroxide to kill whatever traces of him are on me.
I'm taking a shower and i'm gonna bring my pocketknife with me
I told him I was on my period but he says "I'm a doctor, you think I can't handle blood?" And just went for it. Jackpot
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